


Take A Body, Dump It, Drive

by periwinklepromise



Series: WinterIron Week 2019 [14]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes, The WinterWidow is 616, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-24 21:56:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20021659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/periwinklepromise/pseuds/periwinklepromise
Summary: Take a body, dump it, drive. Take a body, maybe your own, and dump it gentlyThe Winter Soldier starts to thaw





	Take A Body, Dump It, Drive

**Author's Note:**

> The poem that inspired this work is by Richard Siken. I've been wanting to do a Winter-centric fic for this poem for a while now, and I thought the WinterIron Week prompt New Beginnings was appropriate
> 
> I like to think I saved the best for last

**_Take a body, dump it, drive._ **

The Asset does not bury bodies. The Asset prepares bodies for burial. The end of a pulse, the fracture of a neck. 

Simple. 

Deploy, accomplish mission objective, return to base for cryo. That is the order of things.

The Asset does not have to follow the order of things. The Asset does not have any orders. The Asset runs, aimless, uncertain.

The Asset incapacitates a man with a red armband and acquires the keys from the man's pockets. The Asset locates the vehicle and reassesses its goals. 

The Asset that is no longer an Asset drives, aimless, uncertain.

**_Take a body, maybe your own, and dump it gently._ **

A photograph of a man with his face is plastered on every news source in every town he has been to. A name is written above them. It is probably his. It is meaningless, a fortress with doorways but no doors. 

Another word is written with them: “Wanted.” He does not believe this is a good thing, to be wanted. But he does not know how to convince them to stop. He has been wanted for years, his body, his skills, his kill count. They will not stop wanting him. 

He writes in a notebook when he can, of what the news sources say about the man who was once him, about the man he once was. Of what the sources say about the countries that want him. They say he killed many, and he has. He remembers. They say he stowed a bomb in a building, and he has not. He would remember, and he does not. Still, they want him. They demand what they call retribution, what some call revenge. 

To avenge, to punish.

To return.

Some have homes to return to, _selves_ to return to. He does not. 

He brings a knife to his skin, shears the hair from his face, trims the hair along his scalp to the length other men wear it in this country. He has notes, with other people's faces on them, that he carries in his pockets, in the pages of his notebook. He exchanges them for clothes other men wear in this country, thick pants and coats and gloves. He walks among them, and heads do not turn to stare, and voices do not shout, and men with guns who want him do not appear.

Safe.

The word for this is safe. Unseen. Invisible. He is wanted, but they will not see him. They want someone who does not exist.

**_All your dead, unfinished selves and dump them gently._ **

Anthony Stark and Steven Rogers find him in Siberia. He does not remember learning Russian, but he knows it all the same, knows the weight of it on his tongue. They see him; they see more than he sees. He can see the weight of all of it in their eyes. 

Things weigh more than they should. 

They are called the Avengers. They ask him to return. 

He tells them he did not plant the bomb. That is what they call it, _planting_. Bombs like flowers, scattered across lands like seeds. 

They say they know. There is emotion not quite fear on their faces. They are cautious. They should be. 

Steven Rogers says they want him to come home.

Wanted.

Logic. They know he did not act, but they want him all the same. The inaction is irrelevant; he will always be wanted. These men do not wear red armbands and do not speak Russian. These men do not call him Asset or Soldat. Anthony Stark calls him Sergeant Barnes; Steven Rogers calls him Bucky.

He remembers being called Bucky. He remembers being called Sergeant. There were men with guns then, too, men with red armbands. He remembers Steven Rogers fighting them.

Being wanted by these men is not the same as being wanted by the others. They do not seek to avenge the dead, those he did not kill. 

They say return. 

He says he will go with them. 

Steven Rogers calls it _going home._

He leaves the notebooks behind. He leaves the clothes, the currency that does not look like what he remembers, the short hair and shorn face. He lets his hair grow long again, but he does not ring his eyes with black. He moves to New York, but New York is not what he remembers. The buildings are taller, the people move faster. The air is heavy and gray.

He meets Natalia again. She is taller and older, and her eyes are colder when they look at him. He remembers her warmth. He remembers wanting her, but it is not the wanting he faces from so many countries. He did not want her to kill her; he wanted her to keep her safe, to keep her close.

He tells her this. 

She nods. She tells him _they_ want to keep him safe too. She does not say who.

Like all those people he made corpses, he lets this rest too.

They call him many names. Many names inspired by other names. That is the way of things among friends. That is what they call themselves, _friends_. He remembers friends. He remembers sickly Stevie, curled and crying. The sight was painful then. The memory is painful now. 

_Friends_ may or may not be painful.

Maintenance is painful and not painful. Days decide this, not him. He makes decisions, sometimes. What to eat, and when. When to visit the laboratory of Anthony Stark to grant him access to the arm that is his and not his.

The arm is less painful after such visits, but to choose them is not easy. He remembers the man who was not Anthony Stark, the father, his face as he died. It was his hand and not. They are his memories and not. The being they call Winter Soldier is him and not him. 

Logic. It was him, but he was not responsible. That is why the Avengers do not avenge the bodies in his memories. _The red in the ledger,_ Natalia calls it. He has red. So does Natalia. So does Anthony Stark.

Anthony Stark tells him to say Tony, so he does. Many have short names, and he calls them those names: Tony, Nat, Steve. They have other aliases: Iron Man, Black Widow, Captain America.

Iron Man is all metal. He is part metal.

He met Tony once, before Siberia. The words were said, and he escaped, and Tony tried to stop him. There was metal wrapped around his hand, and it stopped a bullet in a way that the Asset could not understand but could not be bothered to consider. 

That part of him that is the Asset, that lurks deep in the dark and cold of him, _Winter,_ almost admires the metal and the man inside, the acceptance of danger without concern. Tony who is Iron Man can place metal on his metal, gauntlet on gun, can inhabit a weapon like he can.

Nat and Steve, they are enhanced as he is enhanced, they are stronger and tougher than normal humans, they can withstand more pain. Tony is not enhanced. He is vulnerable. He accepts the danger anyway.

He is dangerous. If the words are said, Winter will come, and he will hurt everyone in his path. But Tony does not stay away. Tony stays. 

He does not think before kissing Tony in his lab. Tony stands, eyes bright, mouth running faster than bullets, and he kisses him like it is the only mission he will ever have again. And when he pulls away, Tony calls him snowflake and kisses him again. He is pulled close. He is kept safe, even though he is seen.

Clothes and cares are stripped away, and he is laid bare, and he is seen, and he is safe. Tony rattles a dozen names for him, and they all have meaning when they come from his mouth. 

He is seen. 

**_Take only what you need._ **

**Author's Note:**

> Participating in WinterIron Week was a wonderful adventure, and all of you made it so much fun!
> 
> Much love!!


End file.
